


Love, Love, Love

by only_because3



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Road trip,” she explained to her mom. Judy looked at her wearily but in the end handed her $500, a graduation gift, reminded Quinn that she trusted her</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Love, Love

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't even know what this is. Nothing really happens and I may not even continue this but I liked what I had too much to just let this sit on my computer. Enjoy!

She’s not sure how Puck talked her into this.  
  
    They’re loading up the back of his truck with a case of water, his guitar case, and bags filled with enough clothes to last them a few weeks.  
  
    (“Road trip,” she explained to her mom. Judy looked at her wearily but in the end handed her $500, a graduation gift, reminded Quinn that she trusted her.)  
  
    Santana pulls up, her own bag in hand. “Can I join you guys?”  
  
    Puck jumps down from the truck (that he assured her wouldn’t break down once they cross the state line). “’Course. But what about-” Quinn pinches his arm and smiles.  
  
\--  
  
    Santana has no idea where they’re going and she likes it that way.  
  
    They stop just after they cross the state line into Indiana, at a diner that smells like ass but has great food, and she finds out that they don’t know where they’re going either.  
  
    “We have like, two months to just… be,” Puck says. It could sound poetic if Puck’s mouth wasn’t full of eggs benedict and so he sounds more like he’s high than anything. “We can go where ever the fuck we want, so long as we got cash.”  
  
    Quinn smoothes out the map on the table. “We could head south now.” She picks up Puck’s piece of toast, nibbles at it before putting it back. “Want to check out your campus?”  
  
    Santana rolls her eyes. “God no. It’s summer break.”   
  
    They decide to go through Kentucky anyway, just to get to Tennessee because Puck wants to check out Memphis which she and Quinn decide they can stomach more than Nashville.  
  
\--  
  
    He decides to ask since Quinn is asleep on the other end of the truck. “You and Britt break up?”  
  
    Santana continues to fiddle with the radio and she just kind of shrugs. He throws an arm around her shoulders, brings her a bit closer. “It’s too hot for whatever you’re about to pull,” she grumbles.  
  
    Puck laughs loud enough for Quinn to stir and Santana elbows him. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says and kisses her temple.  
  
    “God, you sound like my dad.” He puts on his horrible Puetro Rican accent from the play and starts spouting off things he’s actually heard her dad say until she starts laughing. “Okay, stop! I’m gonna wake Quinn up.”  
  
    “Too late,” Quinn groans but she just pulls her hat further down over her eyes. Within 10 minutes she’s snoring softly and Puck just shakes his head.  
  
    “She’s like a baby,” Santana notes, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leans into him willingly now. “What’s up with you two?”  
  
    He would shrug like she did because he honestly doesn’t know but he doesn’t want her to give him shit. So he simply says, “She’s Quinn, ya know?”  
  
    She blinks at him and then stares out the windshield.  
  
\--  
  
    They toured Graceland earlier today, something she found boring but made Puck tear up the entire time, and now they’re in the tiny motel room they rented for the night. There’s booze next to the tv that Santana picked up with a fake ID and she’s already had two screwdrivers by the time Puck pulls out his guitar.  
  
    He starts singing an Elvis song as he strums along. Santana requests something from the man in black and he obliges. Santana flops down next to her, tan skin already flushed. “Do you think you know what love is,” Santana asks, her words slurring just enough for Quinn to take Santana’s glass.  
  
    Quinn downs the drink when Puck looks at her and Santana’s hand rests on her hip. “Probably not.”  
  
    The corner of Puck’s mouth curves and even though he stops playing, music still filters inside the room from the concert a few blocks down. “I’m Puck,” he states and she smiles back.  
  
    “And I’m Quinn.”  
  
    Santana rolls on to her back. “You two have had enough.” She tries to sit up but she sways a bit too much. Quinn grabs her hand and Puck sandwiches Santana in. “You two didn’t even remember each other.”  
  
    Quinn shakes her head. “You don’t understand because you have loved.”  
  
    Puck helps Santana lay back down, kicking their empty to-go boxes off the foot of the bed. “Brittany,” he supplies Santana’s hazy brain and she sighs just before she hiccups.  
  
    “Nah, I’m not so sure about that now.” Santana blinks a little slower, pulls Puck’s arm around her stomach a little tighter. “I’m Santana.”  
  
    “Yeah,” Puck breathes out and Quinn’s lopsided grin grows.  
  
    “Santana.” Santana’s breathing evens out. Quinn brushes a kiss against Santana’s temple and then grabs Puck’s hand on top of Santana’s stomach.  
  
\--  
  
    They’re at a club in New Orleans. Quinn won’t dance much because of her barely noticeable limp. “I like watching you two anyway,” she insists and Puck makes sure Quinn’s drink is full before dragging her on to the dance floor.  
  
    She gets lost in dancing with Puck. Her dress sticks to her skin and this music is fucking _good_. Puck sticks by her entire time, keeps away any other guys or girls and his hands fall to her hips after a while. She smells something, a mix of sweat and fruit and something else; it reminds her of that party way back in freshmen year, when Puck first touched her like this. She thinks of asking Puck if he remembers that, and what happened after, but it’d take too much effort to shout over the music. They’ve been having too good a time anyway.  
  
    Puck leads her over to the table they left Quinn at when they’re both beyond thirsty. Some guy is talking Quinn up, which is fine, but then his hand slips under Quinn’s skirt and then everything blurs. The guys ends up on the ground with a bloody nose, clutching his crotch where Santana kneed him and Quinn’s yelling at the both of them. “I can take care of myself.” Quinn’s crying though, holding her skirt (which Santana had though was too long when they left) in her fists.  
  
    The owner asks them to leave and it’s late so they go back to their one bed motel room.  
  
    Quinn drives and bitches until Puck leans over, leaves a sloppy kiss at the corner of her lips. “You look awesome driving my truck.” Santana doesn’t understand why that seems to shut Quinn up for the rest of the ride but Santana squeezes Puck’s thigh in thanks.  
  
    Puck kisses her cheek before they slide out of the truck.  
  
\--  
  
    “He touched my scars,” Quinn says to Santana as he walks out of the bathroom, Quinn’s eyes focused on her hands in her lap.  
  
    Santana’s fingers pick at the hem of Quinn’s skirt and doesn’t ask the question he’s thinking. “Is that why you won’t wear anything shorter than this?”  
  
    He kneels in front of Quinn and she eyes him carefully but allows him to push her skirt up. “I didn’t realize-” The rest of Santana’s sentence sits in her throat the more the swirl of scars are revealed. Quinn tries to cover them up but he takes her hands in his. “They look like vines,” Santana says next, her fingertips hovering just above the raised, off colored skin. “It’d make a bitchin’ tattoo.”  
  
    Quinn rolls her eyes but Puck agrees with Santana. “I think I’m done with tattoos,” she says, nodding when he looks between her scars and her face.  
  
    He follows a jagged swirl down to the outside of her thigh. Santana still hasn’t touched them yet but her eyes are traveling each dead end. “How far do they go?”  
  
    Quinn tilts her head to the side, her muscle twitching beneath his touch when his fingers sink to the inside of the opposite leg. “They mix with the others.”  
  
    Santana doesn’t get what she means but he does and he thinks of palming Quinn’s belly like he used to; his hand probably wouldn’t fit just right anymore.  
  
    “He shouldn’t know about these,” Quinn whispers, her head falling to Santana’s shoulder. “I control who knows this part of me.”  
  
    Santana finally touches one of the scars and takes a breath. “Brittany said she thought it’d be best if we broke up. Take some time apart while we adjust to everything.”  
  
    It’s nothing he and Quinn didn’t already know but they both smile a little anyway. Quinn calls Brittany a bitch because he can’t. He kisses Santana like he used to because he can and he steals her breath when she calls him an idiot.  
  
    He hears Quinn laugh and feels her fingers tugging at the back of his mohawk.  
  
\--  
  
    They go North again to try and escape the heat of the South but there isn’t much they want to see in states that are mostly land. Instead of stopping in the last little town they see, they keep driving until Santana pulls over sometime after midnight. “This state sucks,” Santana complains. Puck yawns and stretches, his feet invading her floor space, his arms falling behind her and Santana’s backs.  
  
    “Can we please go back south? This place blows.”  
  
    Quinn gets out of the cab as they continue to talk about how they wasted a day doing nothing but driving. She wouldn’t consider it a waste; they spent the day close in a way she’s never really been before.  
  
    Looking up, Quinn sees nothing but a million points of light. They live in a sleepy cow town. It’s not new to her to sees stars unlike how people who live in cities do. But they haven’t passed a single light in miles and the sky looks brand new, like this could be the very first time she’s actually seeing it.  
  
    She sucks in a breath as the truck door slams. “Wow,” Puck sighs.  
  
    Santana snickers. “Gonna start crying again, Noah?”  
  
    “Fuck off, Lopez.”  
  
    Quinn smiles.  
  
\--  
  
    They’re laying in the bed of the truck in silence. The wind is blowing steadily but she’s not cold because Puck and Quinn are pressed on either side of her. “I don’t want to go to Kentucky.”  
  
    Quinn’s hand brushes hers. “Want me to go with,” Puck asks and Santana knows he isn’t joking. He graduated high school but he has no plans, no where he needs to be.  
  
    Quinn says what Santana never would. “You’re a good man, Noah Puckerman.”  
  
    Santana rolls on to her side, taking her eyes off the sky for the first time since they laid down in the back of the truck and she takes in Quinn’s profile. The blonde blinks slowly, obviously tired from their day of doing next to nothing. Santana’s hypnotized for a moment by the way Quinn’s lashes kiss her skin, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she lets out a small, almost dreamy sigh. “You’ll be all alone,” Santana mutters, “if Puck comes with me.”  
  
    Puck spoons her but sets his chin on her shoulder. Quinn closes her eyes a little longer and Santana thinks she might be drifting into sleep but then Quinn looks over at them. “Just look at her,” Puck whispers, his stubble scratching her shoulder when he shakes his head. “She’ll never be alone.”  
  
    Santana has never seen a smile like the one on Quinn’s face now; it’s bright and bashful, accompanied with that faint sadness that she thinks Quinn will always carry. It’s been a really long time since Quinn’s whole face lit up like this and, god, Brittany never looked this gorgeous even when Santana truly believed she loved her.  
  
\--  
  
    He feels a little bad, leaving Quinn on the other end of the bed, but it’s out of courtesy. Santana’s legs bracket his hips; instead of grinding and smirking down at him like she’s done so many times before, her head rests against his chest, her arms curled around him. “Remember when it was just the three of us,” he asks and she laughs.  
  
    “It’s never been just the three of us.”  
  
    He taps out the beginning notes of a Johnny Cash along her spine, grins when she shivers. “For one week it was.” Finn was visiting his grandparents in Columbus and Brittany didn’t move to Lima until the following Monday.  
  
    He’s not surprised she doesn’t remember a time without Britt.  
  
    “We went to the lake and I fingered you under your towel while Quinn slept.”  
  
    He thinks he can feel her smile. “Figures you’d use sex as a way of remembering things.”  
  
    “I’m not fishing for a repeat, by the way,” he clarifies and she laughs. “Not that-”  
  
    “You’d turn down a handy,” she finishes for him and he likes that she’s _really_ laughing now. When they first got on the road, she was still sad, everything a little fake, which he understood. His Santana’s been back since they crossed the state line into Texas though. “Maybe it was supposed to be like this.” She digs her elbows into his chest, sets her head in her hands and raises an eyebrow. “Just _us_ three.”  
  
    She looks like she’s considering this. Her eyes flutter when he drags his hands up her back, her shirt rising halfway. “I really don’t want to go back,” she admits and he nods. “I think I’m already too used to being so close to the both of you 24/7.”  
  
    He doesn’t notice Quinn scooting towards them until Santana tries to slide off his lap. He palms Santana’s ass and Quinn grabs her thigh to keep her in place. “I wasn’t asleep on the beach,” Quinn says hoarsely and Santana laughs again.  
  
    “Pervert.”  
  
    Quinn punches Santana’s thigh but presses against both of them anyway. “Do you miss her,” Quinn asks Santana. He knows that she does; she’ll miss Brittany the same way he and Quinn will miss Beth.  
  
    “I’ll miss this,” Santana answers and he gives her a strong pat on her ass. “Please don’t ruin the moment by getting hard.”  
  
    Quinn’s laugh fills his ear as Santana grins down at him. He bucks his hips with no intentions but Santana grinds back down; fire playing with fire.  
  
    He does end up half hard by the time Santana rolls off him but she kisses him boldly and apologizes. They both kiss Quinn when they realize she’s already fallen back asleep and, yeah, he agrees with Santana.  
  
    He’ll miss this too.  
  
\--  
  
    They’ve been driving a lot slower, she thinks, the more west they go, but it’s okay. She’s decided that being alone with them is probably the best place she’ll ever be.  
  
    It’s grossly hot and both Santana and Puck have taken off their shirts. Santana tells her to join her in her bra; after all, they’ve all seen her in such a state of undress, but Quinn shakes her head. Her body’s been through so much and Quinn would rather save herself the embarrassment of being half naked next to Santana. “Show us some leg then,” Puck drawls from behind the steering wheel. “It’s too hot and it’s kind of unfair that you’re getting a free show at all our sexiness.”  
  
    Quinn rolls her eyes and pulls her skirt above her knee, lets Santana push it up even further. Puck wolf whistles and she can feel herself blush.  
  
    Santana takes a pen out of her bag and even though Quinn doesn’t know what she’s going to do, nods when Santana raises an eyebrow in her direction. The tip of the pen presses against her skin, a leaf appearing in ink next to one of her scars. Only it’s not _next_ to it, it’s growing from it. She watches Santana’s hand glide across her pale skin, leaves and flowers blooming in Santana’s wake.  
  
    When the leg closest to Santana has been transformed into a blue ink garden, Quinn leans forward and presses a kiss next to Santana’s ear, another on her cheek. “You were right.”  
  
    Santana smirks and kisses her fully on the lips. “I’m always right.” She turns her attention to Puck’s arm, who warns her that if she draws flowers, they better at least look bitchin’. Quinn pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, the skin tingling and tasting like what she knows now is Santana. She catches Puck’s eye over Santana’s head and he simply grins.  
  
\--  
  
    They stop at the Grand Canyon and when they get there, they can’t figure out why this was a stop they decided to make. It’s great and all, majestic even, but ultimately, a giant fucking hole in the ground.  
  
    They stay a little under an hour and then drive until they see the Pacific Ocean.  
  
    They all stand side by side on the beach, their feet bathed in cold salt water. She laughs and tells them this reminds her of Crossroads. Quinn actually snorts when Puck asserts that he’s Britney.  
  
    None of them have ever been this far from home before and she decides that it’s fitting she’s made this journey with them; all together they’re responsible for too many firsts with one another.  
  
    Before she realizes what’s going on, Puck is throwing her over his shoulder, running them into the ocean. He lets her shove his head underwater when they surface and then holds her close. “Asshole,” she laughs, pushing her hair out of her face.  
  
    He glances back to shore and waves for Quinn to come out. “You like her,” he states her legs tightening around his waist.  
  
    “She’s Quinn.” They watch the blonde slip out of her shoes, take off her sunglasses. She takes her time getting into the water, walking instead of taking a running jump like them. “You like her, don’t you? That’s what the whole Quinn, Puck thing was?”  
  
    Palming her ass, he grins and simply says. “She’s Quinn.” The girl in question calls out that it’s freezing but Santana begs her not to turn back. Quinn deflates a little but still pushes towards them, the water reaching her hips. “I like you too, ya know. So does she.”  
  
    She cocks her head to the side. “Should’ve known a road trip with you would lead to a threesome.”  
  
    He kisses her neck and then moves her to his hip so Quinn can hold on to him too.  
  



End file.
